


Not My Brother's Keeper

by MissMoochy



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Crush at First Sight, Flirting, M/M, Mistaken Identity, POV Matt Murdock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27522232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Matt visits a butcher's shop in Hell's Kitchen and is immediately taken with one of the staff, a man called Foggy Nelson.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 138





	Not My Brother's Keeper

Matt only ducked into the shop to avoid the rain. Normally, he loved it, the patter of water droplets hitting the sidewalk, each one was perfectly defined, it filled up a little space in his awareness. Each one tinkled like glass, millions of tiny points of sound and it helped him fill out a picture in his head of the world he lived in.

But today, he really didn’t feel like getting wet. This was a new shirt, stiff and crisp and he’d hate to ruin it. Besides, he was supposed to meet Karen an hour and he didn’t want to show up looking like a drowned rat. Their little romantic entanglement was over, dead and buried and he had no wish to resurrect it. But she’s a friend and Matt hates looking his worst.

So. The shop.

He was positive he’d never been there before. Hell’s Kitchen is a lively little warren of side streets and market stalls, glass storefronts and steel shutters. He had the neighbourhood mapped out in his brain, he knew every street like the back of his hand, but he hadn’t visited every business, of course. But the second he walked through the door, he knew he was in a butcher’s shop.

A bell jangled above his head, mingling with the pitter-patter of rain. Matt closed the door behind him and brushed down his jacket, sending beads of water arcing off his lapels. He heard each one as it hit the floor and melted on to the linoleum. It brought to mind lazy summers as a kid, blowing bubbles and trying to touch them before they popped.

The thick odour of blood and meat seemed to permeate the room and Matt winced, feeling a trifle queasy. He liked meat, cooked meat with pleasant spices and sauces to mask the scent of dead flesh. This was raw, unprocessed meat and the smell was so strong. It was like a physical object, like being squeezed into a narrow alleyway, with the walls pressing in on you. The blood was very pungent.

He tried breathing through his mouth.

“You! You’ve got some nerve showing your face in here!”

* * *

He didn’t recognise the voice, but then, why would he? It was male, didn’t sound particularly old or young, but was thick with anger. Despite this, from what he could tell, the man’s body language wasn’t threatening. He was leaning over the bar, his head propped up one hand and when he turned his head, Matt heard the faint swish of his hair brushing his collar.

Matt hesitated, listening out but didn’t pick up on any heartbeats besides his and the shopkeeper’s steady tattoo. Huh.

He schooled his features into a neutral expression, opting for a mild: “Excuse me?”

The man huffed out a breath. “Didn’t I tell you that if I saw you again, I’d call the police?”

Okay, Matt was lost. He smiled politely. “I think you must have me confused with somebody else.”

“Don’t play coy with me. I’m sure you can pull that — that charming, handsome duck crap with chicks but it won’t work on me! Either you pony up the money, or I call the cops. Or I’ll, uh, forcibly evict you from this business.”

 _As if you could!_ Matt thought to himself. He couldn’t help it; He admired the guy’s boldness. “Forcibly evict me? And how would you do that?”

Yeah, the butcher was definitely folding his arms. “I’ll drag you out of here, kicking and screaming, dude. I don’t care.”

Matt smirked. “You think you could take me?”

The guy’s heart thudded loudly but his voice rang with truth. “Absolutely. If I have to.”

“And you’re positive I’m the guy you’ve been looking for?”

“I’m certain. I don’t forget a stunt like that.”

Matt tried not to chuckle, but it was a herculean task. “And what did I do? The last time I was here?”

“You staggered in here, drunk to the gills, climbed over the counter and grabbed several steaks and threw them at passers-by.”

“Uh-huh. And when I was doing this, what was I wearing?”

“Trying to figure out if I’ll make an accurate witness statement? I see right through you, buddy. You were wearing a yellow Hawaiian shirt, the most hideous mirrored sunglasses I’ve ever seen, purple chequered pants and a pair of green sneakers that even Kanye West would find too ostentatious for his tastes. Not exactly easy to forget.”

A laugh bubbled up Matt’s throat but he tamped it down. This guy wouldn’t appreciate his mirth, he thought. “Yeah, that’s not me. That’s my twin, Mike.”

The butcher sighed. “Oh come on, do a little better than that. Evil twin? Really?”

“Not evil, just...misguided. He likes to drink and perform stupid stunts. Throwing steaks around? That sounds like something he’d do.”

“Even if I was to entertain the ridiculous possibility of you having a twin, I would need proof that he exists. Or else, I’m calling my cop buddy and he’s going to arrest you.”

The butcher was telling the truth, Matt knew that. He had a sudden notion of being arrested by this guy’s ‘buddy’ and having to explain to Karen why he needed bail. She’d think it was hilarious. “I’ll prove it. Alexa, call Mike.”

“ _Calling Mike Murdock._ ” said the cool female voice.

There were a few rings, tense silence and then Mike’s brash tones filled the room.

“Matty! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Matt scowled. “Hi, Mike. I’m standing here with—” Matt waggled his fingers pointedly.

“Foggy Nelson.” the man whispered.

“Foggy, really?” 

He heard Foggy sigh. Matt’s smile grew wider. “—Foggy Nelson, of—”

“ _Nelson’s Meats,_ ” Foggy told him.

“—of _Nelson’s Meats,_ a butcher’s shop in Hell’s Kitchen. And Foggy seems to think that you stole some products?”

“Two prime filet tails, one pork longbone rib chop, one lamb ri—” Foggy chimed in, but Matt held up a finger to silence him.

Mike yawned, a long, drawn-out sound like a creaky door opening. He was probably hungover. It wasn’t even noon, so Matt had surely woken him up. “Huh? Oh, right. That night was all kinds of crazy. Tell him no hard feelings, yeah? I was gin drunk, you know how messed-up I get when I’m like that.”

“There’s the matter of the payments…” Matt said evenly, waiting for Mike to fill in the blanks.

“You can pay for me. You’re a lawyer, you got the moolah!”

“Mike!”

“C’mon, Matty, baby, be fair. You know I’ll pay you back. Just pay for this one, okay. I gotta go, there’s a line forming behind me, See ya!”

Matt slipped his phone back in his pocket and tutted in disgust. “The only line that forms when Mike’s around is a line of cocaine. So, do you believe me now?”

The butcher was shaking his head, and Matt caught a whiff of coconut shampoo “Jeez. I thought _I_ had a wild sibling. Your brother makes Theo look like a priest! So... _Matty,_ eh?”

“Matt. Matt Murdock. And don’t you think it’s hypocritical for you to mock my name, _Foggy?_ ”

“Ah, but that’s a nickname, that’s an entirely different kettle of fish.”

“Matty is a nickname. Not a nickname I particularly like but—”

“Aw, no, I was just being petty. It’s a cute name. Matty,”

Matt wasn’t going to rise to the bait. “Stop it,”

“ _Matty,_ ” Foggy said sweetly.

Matt scoffed, but he could feel the beginnings of a reluctant smile pulling at his mouth. Foggy’s sass was difficult to hate.

“You’re very protective over your business, you know that?”

“It’s not my business,” Foggy said casually, but his heart twanged. “It’s my parents. My brother normally works here, but he broke his leg a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been sort of filling in. I’m not really cut out for retail and I know that if I screw this up, my folks will be disappointed. So, yeah.” **  
**

Matt could understand that. Familial expectations were a hell of a thing to overcome. He cleared his throat. “I suppose I’d better pay for my brother’s mistakes? Do you take card payments?”

* * *

It physically hurt to hand over that much money on meat. Well, he didn’t technically hand it over, but he swiped his card while Foggy gloated and cracked jokes. Matt assured him that he was going to find a suitable way to get revenge on Mike and Foggy offered his services as a partner-in-crime if it came to that. Matt kind of…wished that it was a genuine offer. He realised, as the till spat out a long stream of paper, which Foggy handed to him, that he didn’t want to say goodbye. They were going to conclude their business and Matt was going to walk out of that door. He was going to eat pastries with Karen over coffee and talk about business and the news, and Foggy was going to spend the rest of the afternoon propping himself up on the counter at _Nelson’s Meats._ And Matt was only ever going to hear his voice in passing, just a snatch of conversation as he spoke to somebody else. He wondered who Foggy’s ‘cop buddy’ was and if he’d ever met them when he was Daredevil.

“While you’re here, I don’t suppose I can interest you in anything?”

Matt was interested, he was very interested. But that’s not what Foggy meant, was it?

“I’ve already spent over a hundred dollars on a bunch of meat I’m never going to get to eat, so…”

“That was for your brother! You should buy something for yourself!”

Matt laughed, and it felt good to do it. “Is this the hard sell or the soft sell?”

“Trust me, if it was hard, you’d know,” And he surely meant nothing by it, but there was something about that low, even voice and the word _hard._ Matt cleared his throat, feeling the flush of blood pooling in his face.

“Maybe…maybe another time,” Matt said and he knew Foggy was disappointed. Could hear it, smell it. But who was he kidding, really? He could spend a months salary buying enough steak and pork to win a smile out of Foggy, but that’s all he was: a customer. They weren’t friends. Matt should leave him to it.

“Okay, no worries. Hey, if you ever feel like coming back, I’ll give you the friends and family discount!” Foggy said, which was kind of him. Friends and family. Matt was neither one. He bid his goodbyes, and left, sending that merry bell chiming above his head once more.

“You fucking moron,” groaned a voice nearby.

Matt stopped in the middle of the street and a passer-by stumbled in his path. They went on their way, and Matt frowned, trying to concentrate in the sea of falling rain and plodding footsteps.

“ _No worries._ Dumbass. Why the hell didn’t I ask for his number?”

That voice was rapidly becoming familiar. Matt ducked back in the shop. The bell rang once more.

“Hi, let me know if you need any—oh, it’s you! Changed your mind about the discount, huh? What would you like?”

Matt placed both hands on the counter and leaned over. “Your phone number,” he said firmly, and grinned as he heard Foggy’s heart race. ********


End file.
